The Highlander's Sin by Eliza Knight Page B

inconsiderate, had practically molested her—no matter that she ’d liked it—and he’d taken her away from her family, intent on delivering her into the hands of some evil lord for a few coins. There hadn’t been a chance to escape yet, but as soon as he was asleep, she was going to steal his horse and make a run for it.
    Heather bit into the stale oatcake, hating how it sucked the moisture from her tongue. She choked it down and took another bite. Food was energy, and she was going to need it in a few hours.
    She watched from hooded eyes as the priest wiped down his horse, fed the animal an apple and whispered in his ear. Treated his warhorse better than he did her. Not surprising. Most warriors did. Their horses were their constant companions. If they didn’t treat them well, the animals were likely to rebel. A rebelling warhorse was dangerous, even potentially deadly to a warrior.
    Mystery clouded her abductor. He wore priest’s robes, the crucifix around his neck lent an air of religion , but the way he kissed was anything but saintly. Who was he? What was his story? Not that she should have an inkling of curiosity about him. He was, after all, trying to thwart her desire to meet up with William Wallace. But something about him compelled her interest.
    With a frown she bit into the jerky—and practically cracked her teeth. It was so hard, she had to gnaw on it for a good minute before a small, mangled piece popped off. She shivered at the taste. Not good in the least. Tasted more like a slice of the priest’s belt than dried venison flank. Heather actually pulled it back to make sure it wasn’t a belt. Hmm. Nay. Definitely jerky. Just the very worst she’d ever had.
    “Be happy I’m nay starving ye, princess.”
    Heather ripped off another chunk of venison and glared up at the warrior priest. How did he know she was so disgusted with her meal? He’d not even been watching her. That she knew of… He was sly as a fox, this one.
    “Why dinna ye just take off those robes ye hide beneath and show your true colors ?” she snapped.
    He grinned in a way that was not quite filled with humor. “Would ye like that? For I wear nothing else.”
    “Ye disgust me.” How could he just say the things he said? How could he make her feel the way she did? The man was dressed beneath his robes, she’d seen his warrior garb when he’d threatened her with the ax, but that didn’t matter. It was the thought of him wearing nothing beneath the robes that sent chills racing up and down her arms. She wanted to run over to him and hit him repeatedly—until her fists cried out for mercy.
    “Ye disgust yourself.”
    Heather let out a cry of outrage. “I dinna!”
    “Huh.” And that was all he said before he sat on a stool—or rather a chair that’s back had been broken off. He bit effortlessly into his venison , making her wonder if he’d given her the worst pieces.
    “What do ye mean by that?” she asked, unable to resist taking his bait.
    “By what?” he asked nonchalantly as he munched.
    Oh, she could feel the rage boiling in her blood. Instead of saying something she’d regret, Heather chomped down on another sawdust oatcake.
    “Well? Are ye going to explain your question, or are ye in the habit of ignoring people?” The way he’d said it was as though he were trying to annoy her. On purpose.
    “Ye are no person.”
    He lifted a brow and reached beneath his robes. Her heart thundered. What was he about? Had he somehow managed to strip nude and discard his clothes when she hadn’t been looking? But when he pulled out only a small flask, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed he’d not made good on his threat to show her just what was beneath his robes. She’d felt it . Hard, thick and long. A woman of her age and status should have been afraid to feel such intimate parts of a man. But not Heather. She was intensely curious. Dangerously so. All in spite of hating him and the very ground he sat